No Time For Regrets
by abletotry
Summary: Draco is unhappily married but loves his son dearly. When he is thrown back into the past, he has the choice to change his future. But is it worth living happily if Scorpius never even gets the chance to? HPDM
1. The Life That He Lived

**Title - **No Time For Regrets

**Summary - **Draco is unhappy with many of the choices he has made in his life. His relationships are strained and he is haunted by the things that he did in the war. His son is the one bright thing in his life, and he adores him. When Draco is thrown back into the past and has the choice to change his future, will he find his own happiness when it means that Scorpius never would have been born?

**Pairings - **Harry x Draco, aside from that mostly canonical.

**Notes - **This story is marked 'angst' for a reason. Draco starts off unhappy, obsessive and depressed. As the story goes on he will improve and the ending will be a happy one, but you'll have to bear with him until then! There's also a good deal of swearing. I've uploaded two chapters to start with, and it's in the second that the story really begins. It would have been one chapter, but it became so long I cut it in half. I suppose that's a good thing? :P

I'd also like to say that this story was partially inspired by Mabulatious' story on this site called 'For the First Time'. Go and check it out if you're interested in time-travel fanfictions!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Don't run so fast, Scorpius! I won't have you falling and hurting yourself!"

His son didn't stop, just turned to smile at him. "I know, Father. But you'll just keep telling me to slow down anyway, and I wouldn't want you to waste your words," he said cheekily.

"And I keep telling you because you keep running. Do you see what's wrong here?" Draco never scolded Scorpius unless he had good reason to. He found that at his age children were often rational and willing to consider ceasing doing something if you gave them a good enough reason. It was enjoyable anyway, talking to his son like this.

"I see exactly what's wrong here, Father," Scorpius smiled wider at him. "You're not running with me."

At that Draco roared and rushed forward, his arms outstretched to capture his son, and Scorpius put up a valiant fight before surrendering, too breathless from giggling to run much further anyway. He hugged him and smiled when his small arms slipped around his neck. "You shouldn't make a challenge you won't win, Scorpius."

"But I wanted to lose," Scorpius told him, as if that explained everything. It did, somehow. Draco had never been allowed to think that way when he was a boy. He was glad that his child was able to.

He could feel his father's disdainful gaze on his back even now. Lucius didn't approve of the way his grandson was being raised, but as much as Draco loved his father he knew he had gotten a few things wrong. Draco was determined to do everything right by Scorpius, as much as he was capable of.

And if that meant letting his son try to outwit him with words and hug him whenever he wanted, then Draco could think of harder things.

"That's alright then," he murmured. Straightening, Draco released his son and smiled at him. Scorpius smiled back, bright and brilliant as only a child could be. "But please, run more slowly. Even if you don't get hurt I worry that you will."

Scorpius considered that and nodded. He ran off and Draco watched him with the pleasure of a parent. It was only a matter of minutes before Scorpius forgot himself again and returned to his usual speed. He knew that, and asked him to slow more to see that his son would consider him. He always did, and it always pleased Draco. It told him he was doing some things right.

Lucius came to stand beside him, and they watched as Scorpius fell upon a flower that he touched reverently. A frown came over his face, and Draco knew he was trying to decide if he should let it grow or pull it up so that he could possess its beauty. He chuckled, ignoring the look his father gave him.

"You give him too much freedom, Draco-" Lucius began, but Draco cut him off.

"I give him enough, Father. It's rather different," he said shortly. They had argued over Scorpius' upbringing countless times. There wasn't anything that Lucius could say that he hadn't already heard.

"You give him too much. Look how he runs around, kneeling in the dirt and playing with some garden plants. If he fell he'd bloody a knee, ruin his robes and then his face by crying." Lucius' voice was harsh. "He's a good-looking child, and at least in that regard I'm proud to call him a Malfoy. That is, at least, when his face isn't frightfully red and blotchy."

Draco was about ready to yell at his father, but he wasn't finished. "I didn't even know we were capable of it. _You_ were certainly never like that."

_Because you wouldn't let me. And I think you know I hate you for that._ "We aren't the family now that we were in the past, Father. The name Malfoy means something different now," Draco said as calmly as he could manage.

"It's undeserving of us," Lucius insisted.

"Azkaban is deserving of us!" Draco hissed. "For what we did, for who we were, we should each of us be rotting away and then you wouldn't get to see your grandson to complain about him in the first place!"

There was a moment of silence before Lucius replied. It was probably so that Draco could collect himself, but he didn't bother. He'd learned long ago that he didn't need to present the same face to his own father that he did to the rest of the world. "I _am _glad he was born," he said as if he weren't sure Draco knew that, so he had deigned to tell him outright.

"I know you are, Father. I don't doubt that you love Scorpius." Draco ran a hand through his hair without thinking, and realised he'd done it when he saw Lucius' jaw clench. "If you didn't I wouldn't let him near you. But you want him to be something that I don't. I want him to _decide _if he wants to be that cold and calculating Malfoy heir you raised me to be. I want him to be able to choose that. I don't feel that I could have."

"You're not acting like a Malfoy heir now, however much you say I forced you to be one," Lucius said.

Draco laughed in a way that made Lucius flinch almost imperceptibly. "And how long did that take me? Fifteen years and having a child? You won't ever know how hard it was to break free of you."

"You shouldn't have had to," Lucius whispered.

"I had to, Father. I couldn't do that to my own child. I might have made too many mistakes to fix, and lived in a way that I regret but can't change, but Scorpius won't be anything like me," Draco watched his son pluck one of the flower's petals and step away, tucking it into his pocket and running off again. "I made sure of that."

Lucius looked at Draco, but Draco couldn't believe that it was with anything but disapproval in his eyes. Even if his father looked at him once the way he did at Scorpius, he didn't think he could believe it. It was too late for them. He wouldn't slowly destroy his relationship with his son, so that all they could do was argue quietly when he was older.

At least in this way, he wouldn't become his father.

"Scorpius!" he called and the boy stopped and turned to them. Draco resisted the urge to laugh at Lucius. _Look, _he wanted to say, _you can earn a child's obedience instead of force it. You can help a child so that he grows to be the person he wants to be, rather than tell him from birth exactly what he is and will become. One day you will look at Scorpius and be forced to acknowledge that he is better than anything you could have trained him to be._

"We need to be going," he said instead. "Come now, we'll head home. I think I heard your mother saying something about venison for dinner?"

Scorpius ran over to him, almost running into his legs and Draco laughed. His son looked up at him with bright, wide eyes and cheeks slightly flushed. "Did she really?" Draco nodded and Scorpius struggled with himself, probably trying not to whoop in front of his grandfather. "I suppose we ought to go then," he said finally.

"I suppose so," Draco agreed, and he smiled when Scorpius took his hand and began to drag him. Scorpius reached out as though he were going to take Lucius' hand as well, but drew back again. As far as Draco knew he'd never tried these things and been punished for them. He seemed to just understand innately that they were not to be done with certain members of his family.

Scorpius pulled them up to the place in the road where they had arrived when they'd Apparated here. It was a quiet Muggle area with more animals than people and farmland than houses. It was a good place to come when Scorpius wanted to go out and enjoy himself, without having to worry about someone recognising them and starting a fight over Draco and Lucius' role in the Second Wizarding War.

Draco made sure to bring him places like this often. It relaxed both of them. Of course, occasionally one or both of his parents would decide to come along, or Astoria would have a fleeting interest in what her husband and son did when she wasn't busy networking.

His wife seemed to think that the way to rescue the Malfoy reputation would be to talk to enough people about how good they were. If she could persuade enough witches and wizards that the Malfoys hadn't supported He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and hadn't tried repeatedly to capture Harry Potter and offer him up to him, then it wouldn't have happened. Even Astoria had the sense to realise that theirs wasn't a history to be proud of.

But while Draco hadn't given up on trying to show people that the Malfoys had changed, or at least regretted what they had done, he didn't think that speaking with people was the best way to do that like Astoria obsessively did. If they acted differently it would be clearer than saying that they were, and more believable.

If he raised Scorpius with all the love that he had for him, and taught him all the lessons that Draco had had to learn, then he would be enough to redeem the rest of them.

That wasn't why he doted on his child. He loved him dearly and wanted what was best for him. Draco found it hard to believe that Lucius had felt the way he did towards his son, and still had done everything that he had. Perhaps his love hadn't been as sincere. Perhaps it had been the same, and he'd merely seen 'what was best' as something different.

It didn't matter. What mattered was that he could look on his past as something that was behind him, and concentrate on the future in the form of his son.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Mother!" Scorpius squealed when he saw her. He ran over to her and reached his arms out so that they could hug.

Astoria leant down and hugged him easily enough, beginning to pull away after a moment but stopping when she caught Draco's glare. "Did you enjoy yourself, Scorpius?" she asked with an air of polite detachment.

"I did! And..." His hand reached to his pocket, and Draco wondered if he was going to give Astoria the petal he'd retrieved earlier. But it lowered again and Scorpius pulled away from her. "...it was fun," he said with uncommon shyness.

Astoria looked pleased that she'd inspired some humility in her son, but Draco knew better. Scorpius was clever, and more socially aware than his years gave him credit. He was feigning that shyness in a way that would have made his grandfather proud.

If his grandfather even noticed. It seemed Scorpius was too subtle, too skilled at ten years of age for the oldest Malfoy.

"What have you prepared for dinner, dear wife," he asked her, stepping forward and kissing her on the cheek. He was allowed to stand beside her and would have insisted he do so even if he weren't. Astoria knew what being his wife meant, and didn't want to make their marital problems public, just as much as Draco wanted to be sure Scorpius felt as though he were part of a family, and that even if his mother and father didn't appear to get along especially well they didn't hate each other either.

It had been easier for his own parents in that regard. Lucius and Narcissa loved each other in a way that was rare among purebloods. They'd been fortunate that their tastes had matched their requirements.

And Narcissa had loved Draco, while Astoria merely tolerated Scorpius because Draco had made it clear that it was that or divorce. After all that she'd invested in the Malfoy name, she wasn't going to abandon it when all she had to do was smile and hug and pretend that some part of her was capable of motherly feeling.

"You'll just have to see for yourself," Astoria answered Draco, and he frowned. That meant the house elves had prepared the meal, and she hadn't bothered to even find out what it was.

"Father said it would be venison!" Scorpius said excitedly.

Astoria smiled thinly down at him. "Of course. I know how you like it."

Sometimes Draco sincerely wanted to call her on her bullshit. As it was, aside from the occasional argument he wasn't willing to speak openly enough with Astoria about anything that was wrong with their lives, for fear that she'd leave and take Scorpius with her. If Scorpius was happy to have the bitch around, he could allow her in his home.

Scorpius would be the only one who wanted her here. Narcissa despised her behind a mask of fondness, and Lucius had told him more than once what better uses he could think for her than a Malfoy wife and mother. One of them was to test the digestive abilities of several carnivorous plants.

"I told you, didn't I?" Draco teased Scorpius, and he touched Astoria's arm before walking out of the room, his son following him.

"You did, Father. And you're never wrong," Scorpius said with a child's blind faith.

"No one's never wrong," Draco told him, keeping his tone light while his thoughts were falling over themselves in concern. Astoria said sometimes that he took his role as a father too seriously. It was one of the few things about which he was inclined to agree with her.

But better to be too serious than neglect Scorpius. If he came to him one day and said that he wanted to be left alone more often, then Draco would accept that decision gracefully.

"You're right. I spoke without thinking."

"That's okay," Draco said gently. "Everyone does it. Even your grandmother and grandfather do sometimes."

Scorpius looked disbelieving, and Draco let him think whatever he was thinking. He'd discover soon enough that Lucius and Narcissa actually spoke more rashly than many other people that Draco knew. "Where are we going, Father?"

Draco looked at him sharply, his face drawn in mock surprise that Scorpius didn't know such a thing. "To the kitchens, of course! I want to see this dinner that your mother talked about. Otherwise," he leaned over slightly to Scorpius, and narrowed his eyes comically. "I'll be inclined to think that it doesn't exist."

His son giggled. "Of course it does," he said.

"But how do you know?" Draco asked.

"Mother said it does."

"But have you seen it?"

"No, but..."

"There you have it," Draco said triumphantly. "Until you've seen it, you can't be sure that something is really there. And even then."

Scorpius was quiet for a moment. "What about love?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You can't see love. How can you be sure that it exists?"

Draco looked at him. This was a serious question his son was asking, and he'd address it seriously. "You _can_ see love, Scorpius," he said in a soft voice. "You can see it in the things that a person does, and the way they look sometimes. Have you seen the way Grandfather looks at Grandmother every now and then, when he thinks you're not looking?"

Scorpius nodded.

"Well, that's what I'm talking about. You can see that he loves her. It's the same way that you can see that I love you, and I can see that you love me. So it's true. Until you've seen something, you can't be sure that it's really there."

Scorpius was quiet again. "You're cynical, aren't you Father?"

Draco laughed. "Yes. Yes I am. Now is it just me, or can you smell venison?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Draco fell into his chair as if it were the only thing between him and unconsciousness. He sighed heavily and stared into the flames in the fireplace until they'd burned themselves onto his vision. Apparently if you did that enough times you would go steadily blind. Draco wasn't one for wishful thinking, at least not when it came to himself.

"Goodnight, Draco," Astoria said to him from the doorway.

"Goodnight," he answered her, and was satisfied to hear her slip away.

They didn't share a room. They never had, aside from the first few nights of their marriage, up until Astoria had complained in her delicate way that he snored and he kept trying to push her out when he was half-asleep. Even his subconscious didn't like her.

Their marriage had been arranged by Lucius, who had implied often enough since that he regretted choosing her for Draco. Unlike he and Narcissa they didn't match in any way. Draco was determined to reform after everything he had endured in the war. Astoria was a few years younger than him, young enough to have been unaffected by it and to think that Draco was making a bigger deal out of the whole thing than he needed to.

She'd gone to Durmstrang. They hadn't had the war arrive at their doorstep there. She hadn't had to watch as people fell around her, some injured, some cursed, some dead. She hadn't had to deal with the knowledge that it had been, at least partially, her fault. She hadn't spent every day since then trying to find something good in herself, so that she had reason to continue to live.

The war had broken Draco in so many ways. He'd disliked Astoria the moment he met her, and that feeling had only intensified, but he hadn't cared enough for himself to tell his father no.

That had changed and he'd regretted it, but there was nothing he could do about it now. At least he could be glad that he'd regained himself. If Draco was unhappy and dissatisfied a great deal of the time, at least he was able to recognise now what made him unhappy and dissatisfied, and why those feelings were worth fighting.

If it weren't for Scorpius, he would have abandoned his family long ago. They didn't need him. Sure, Lucius and Narcissa wanted him here with them. Despite it all they loved him, just as they continued to love each other. But if Draco left they wouldn't suffer for anything more than missing him.

Astoria could keep up with her futile attempts at restoring the Malfoy legacy with dozens of owls and constant visits to people's homes, until Lucius finally cast her out. They would all be fine if Draco were gone, maybe even better than they were while he remained.

But Scorpius needed him. Scorpius had to be protected from his own indifferent mother and grandparents that wanted him to keep everything tucked away within himself, until he couldn't carry any more and sooner or later it all fell out at once and he had to remake himself.

Draco was a father now. It was a large part of what he saw of himself, but not all of it. He'd become a person again, different to the one he'd been before. Scorpius had never known that person. Now, he cared about things and reached out for them. Now, he could read a paper without feeling anxiety about what it might say about him. Now, he could forgive people, and if he didn't know that too much time had passed for him to do, ask them to forgive him.

At the end of every day, Draco slumped into this chair in a way that would have ruined his posture growing up, and thought about everything he wished were different.

He stared into the flames until nearly all he could see was burning white, and wondered as he always did what things would be like if he'd acted differently all those years ago.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was a rather large owl that brought Scorpius' acceptance letter, and for a while he just stared at it, as if he were half-convinced that it would eat him. Or perhaps he was in awe of the idea of going to Hogwarts in a few months.

Draco had told him plenty of stories about what he had gotten up to there – harmless ones that had educational value at times, and were meant to entertain at others. Stories about professors that he didn't like, or that he was secretly fond of. Stories about the pranks he'd done on Harry Potter when they were growing up. Stories about the rivalries and friendships and family that he'd found and made at school. It wasn't meant to be lonely.

He hoped desperately that Scorpius would be able to resist the tarnish of the Malfoy name and make friends on his own merit. If he had raised his son well enough, he would be able to see beyond the robes and names of the people that he met there. He wouldn't see a Mudblood where there was a girl trying her best in class. He wouldn't see a pauper where there was a boy trying to be his own person when he had too many older brothers for that to be easy.

He wouldn't see a spoiled hero where there was a boy trying to find his way in a world that he'd never known before. Draco had found out all sorts of things about Harry since they'd left school, things that he would have told him about if he'd just asked. At least back then, Draco's was by far the happier family. And he hadn't known.

"Don't you think you should take it?" he asked mildly.

"Oh!" Scorpius looked at him in surprise, as if he'd forgotten he was there. "Right. Yes. I'll do that now." And he continued to eye the bird, which just gazed back at him and waited patiently for him to take the letter.

"So I see," Draco smiled.

"It's not..." Scorpius breathed in deeply. "It's not going to...bite me...or anything, is it?"

"I can take it if you'd like?" he stepped forward, but Scorpius flung out an arm to stop him.

"No! No. I'll do it. I will. This can't be as hard as I'm making it."

Draco leaned back against the wall and folded his arms, watching his son with amusement. The owl had come while they were heading out to the gardens. Lucius and Narcissa were there already and would be very pleased about the news. Astoria was Merlin knew where. Draco would tell her himself that Scorpius was attending Hogwarts, because he knew that she'd be far too happy to see him gone to easily explain to a child as sharp as theirs.

He watched as Scorpius reached out tentatively with both hands, drawing back slightly when the owl tilted its head. He closed his eyes for a few moments, and when they opened again his hands were steady and his eyes determined. He reached forward with none of the hesitation he'd had before and took the envelope.

The owl hooted at him and Scorpius only faltered slightly when he rubbed its head in thanks. It took wing and flew up into the stairwell. Draco really had no idea how it had gotten inside that way. He might have to check the windows...

Scorpius broke the seal on the envelope and slid out the letter. He read it silently before turning to his father. "Why only a pewter cauldron?"

Draco hadn't expected that. "It's partly that pewter doesn't react to as many things as something like gold or silver would. And it's partly that your cauldron is going to explode at least once, whether you're responsible or not, and it's just cheaper to replace."

"That's so funny. How could you manage to explode a cauldron?"

"There was a boy in my year who exploded his every other week," Draco smiled. He hadn't thought of Longbottom in years. "And if he didn't explode it, he damaged the handle or burned all down the side or melted the lid so that it wouldn't come off."

Scorpius wrinkled his nose. "Which house was he in?"

"Gryffindor," he answered, and Scorpius nodded as if that explained everything. "But his housemates were really quite good to him. Whenever he managed to brew a potion successfully, they had a party. And it wasn't any secret that he was the best at Herbology in the whole school."

"If you'd said Ravenclaw or Slytherin I would have wondered how he survived, and if you'd said he was in Hufflepuff I would have wondered why he kept trying," Scorpius said. "But he was in Gryffindor, that makes sense. Brave enough to face constant failure, and happy to celebrate when he did well."

He probably didn't realise how much his words alleviated Draco. He'd been momentarily worried that Lucius had instilled in him the same disdain for Gryffindor house than he had in Draco when he was a boy. That the first question his son had thought to ask was which house the boy had belonged to had worried him.

"You know, I rather like that house," Scorpius mused.

Draco's heart stopped and he willed it to start again. This was what he wanted, for his child to make his own decisions and become his own person, not another copy of Draco or Lucius at his age.

The first Malfoy to go into Gryffindor. My, that would be interesting. He wanted to be there to see Astoria's face when she heard.

"Should we go and tell Grandmother and Grandfather?"

"Of course," Draco replied. He didn't need to warn Scorpius not to mention Gryffindor in front of his grandfather. He was smart enough to know why that wasn't a good idea without Draco telling him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Astoria would have wanted them to stand a full metre away from Scorpius, side-by-side so that they could look him over they like they were generals and he was a soldier. Then she would have wanted to touch his head briefly, maybe kiss him on the cheek if she felt like making a show, and waited the appropriate amount of time for him to get onto the train before leaving.

_Fuck that. _Draco knelt down, fully aware that his robes were going to be dirtied by whatever you would find on the ground of Platform 9 ¾ and equally aware that Astoria would be trying to murder him with her eyes. He swept Scorpius into a tight hug and felt it returned.

"I'll miss you, Father." Scorpius sounded as though he were about to break into tears.

"I'll miss you too, son. Be sure to write me whenever you can. And your mother and grandparents, of course. They'll want to hear from you." That was true, if only partially. Lucius would want to show his grandson off, Narcissa...well, she might actually want to know. She and Scorpius _were _close. Astoria probably wouldn't bother to open whatever her son sent her unless Draco threatened her, and he was getting really tired of doing that.

"I will, Father. You'll write back, won't you?"

"Of course I will. I'll send you so many packages that your housemates will all be jealous. And your grandmother always did that for me when I was at Hogwarts, so you can expect some from her as well." Without breaking the hug, Draco rubbed Scorpius' hair so that it stood up oddly. They had the same pale-blond hair, but Scorpius' was slightly thicker and didn't fall back into place the way Draco's did.

Scorpius' grip on his neck got suddenly tighter, and Draco wondered where he got the strength as he tried very hard to breathe. "I'll miss you, Father!"

"You said that already," Draco laughed. "Really, Scorpius, it's not so bad. You'll make friends and have a lot of fun and by the time holidays roll around you won't want to come home."

"That could never happen!" Scorpius said fiercely.

"I'm glad. Now, I think you'd better say goodbye to your mother. She had a meeting or something that she really can't be late to," Draco let go of Scorpius and stood up again, not bothering to brush down his robes. Scorpius would be able to understand what he was saying – _if you say goodbye to your mother, she'll leave and then we don't have to worry about her._

Scorpius went over to Astoria and kissed her check before stepping back, as was proper. "Goodbye, Mother," he said with that false shyness.

"I hope to hear that you're doing well in your class work, Scorpius. Do us proud," Astoria said with just the right amount of sternness and lack of genuine concern to make Draco want to strike her.

Scorpius nodded, slowly and formally. When he had done that, Astoria smiled and allowed Draco to kiss her briefly before she walked out of the platform.

_Gods be, I hate her. _"Are you too old to be picked up?" Draco asked his son thoughtfully.

"No! I rather think I'm the perfect age for that, Father!" Scorpius brightened. The transformation was instantaneous; one moment he was emotionlessly nodding to his mother and the next he was falling over himself and trying – not very hard – to hide his excitement. It was no question which version of him Draco preferred.

"Well. Would you like to-" Draco began, but Scorpius had already rushed over to him with outstretched arms. He hooked his hands under them and lifted him up, noting with the same surprise he always did how much heavier his son had gotten.

Scorpius looked around them, his hand resting loosely on Draco's arms. It was as if he thought the world looked different from this high up. And maybe it did. Maybe the world you saw at eleven was different to the one Draco saw at thirty-seven.

His attention came back to his father and he grinned. "You're right; I'm a little too old for this. But it's fun all the same."

"Oh? Then maybe I should put you down again..." Draco shifted as if he was about to, but Scorpius flung his arms around his neck again in protest.

It was amazing how many people he had recognised already on the platform. They'd already run into a couple of Slytherins that Astoria had made him stop and talk to stiffly. Just as many as he knew by name he recognised for their appearance. There was that girl he'd always found studying in the library until curfew, and that Hufflepuff he'd hexed after he'd been hanging around the Gryffindors and tried to stand up to him.

And there was one of the Patil twins, he could confess to not being able to tell them apart. And Zacharias Smith, who he'd begrudgingly respected, and of course Granger and Weasley standing surrounded by small red-headed children. He hadn't looked too closely at them, because he knew Harry couldn't be far away.

All these faces and names and so many of them thought to judge him because of the affection he was showing his son. Several people had whispered amongst themselves as they passed him, while others hadn't even thought to whisper. Parents would point Scorpius out to their children, and Draco felt angry at them for trying to deprive his son of a chance that every child should get.

But it didn't matter. Scorpius would be fine. It wouldn't be easy, but he was strong and smart and good. He had a temper underneath all of that, but so much self-control that no one might ever see it.

He would be fine.

"Father?"

"Yes, Scorpius?" Draco bent over to put the boy carefully down.

Scorpius' eyes twinkled up at him. "I like Peppermint Toads. You know that, right?"

"You like anything with more sugar in it than your stomach should be able to process," Draco said. Along with his looks Scorpius had inherited his sweet tooth.

"Malfoys always like a challenge."

"You should be getting on the train." Draco smiled despite himself.

"Alright. Can you help me with my bags?" Scorpius had already picked up the larger of the two, and Draco reached for the smaller. If it were up to him they would have used a Shrinking Charm on them both and reversed it on the platform, but there were too many people and animals about that there wasn't enough space.

As Scorpius deliberated over which carriage he'd like to take, Draco found himself glancing over to the Weasleys and cursing himself for doing it. He hadn't seen Harry for years – and certainly not since he'd started calling him 'Harry'. This infatuation of his had gone on too long for him to indulge it and think that it wouldn't change anything.

Astoria either didn't notice or chose to ignore it; he wasn't sure and didn't need to know. He couldn't risk her getting angry about it and divorcing him. If they split up it had to be on his terms. If she had her way she would take everything. She would take Scorpius just because she knew it would hurt him.

Lucius didn't see it, Draco knew. He thought it was an obsession that he'd cultivated, and maybe it had started that way, but it had soon developed into something stronger and more consuming. Narcissa knew and had talked to him about it. He'd had to assure her that it wasn't something he would pursue before she left the subject alone.

Scorpius...he didn't think Scorpius would understand. It was something so strange, to realise you were in love with someone you had hated for so long. And by now Draco had loved Harry for more years than he'd ever hated him. It was another thing he wished was different about his life.

He saw Weasley scowl at him and say something to his daughter, gesturing at Scorpius. Draco's free hand curled into a fist and he had to stop himself from marching over and asking what he was about. Granger – well, she was a Weasley too, now – just glanced at him and didn't seem too bothered. Hopefully their children had had the sense to take after her.

And standing near them was a familiar figure, whose dark head turned and green eyes fell directly on Draco's. He felt his heart stop, and didn't think that he could even try to get it going again.

Harry was older now. They both were. They weren't here to board the train and head off for another school year. This time it was their children's turn. His Scorpius and Harry's two boys and girl, all ridiculously named in tribute of about ten different people. If he could look away from Harry he might see them, see if they took after him or their mother. But he couldn't. He couldn't.

Draco felt suddenly as though every regret he had ever had was washing over him at once. He felt as though he were drowning in them.

So he just held Harry's gaze as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded and sane right now. And Harry returned it, without a scowl or a frown or angry words. And then he nodded at Draco.

And miraculously Draco nodded back.

And then Harry looked over at Scorpius, who had started tugging at his father's hand when Draco had been distracted, and then he looked back to his family.

And that was all. Nothing more and nothing less.

They weren't anything more than that, or anything less.

"Come on, Father! I've decided, and if we wait too long someone else will take it!" Scorpius said.

Draco didn't trust himself to speak, but he nodded at his son and followed him to the train. He didn't help him up because Scorpius was old enough to handle himself like that, even if he was still young enough to enjoy being picked up by his father. He did lift both of the bags onto the train, with Scorpius' help. It occurred to him that he might have some difficulty carrying them off the train later. Ah, well. It might be a good chance for him to make some friends.

They hugged and waved and Scorpius began to tear up and Draco tried very hard not to, and then the train began to move and smoke began to billow around them and Scorpius hung out the window waving goodbye until he went back into the carriage, narrowly missing being choked by steam as it gusted past his window, and then the train turned the corner and none of the parents left behind could see it anymore, and everyone began to head home.

And then Draco tried to work out just what the fuck was wrong with him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Goodnight, Draco," Astoria said to him exactly the same way she always did.

"Goodnight." He barely heard her slip away he was so preoccupied with his thoughts.

Draco slumped further into his chair, alternating between closing his eyes so tightly it hurt and staring into the fire. It was the same thing he always did, but this time it was worse. Scorpius had gone to school and left Draco here at the mansion with nothing that he wanted. He had to wake up every day and go about his business, pretending that it mattered as much to him as it did to other people.

Every day now he was faced with the life that he lived and the choices he had made, and he was unhappy with all of them. In every photograph or portrait that his eyes fell on the images shifted until he saw what might have been – making true friends and keeping them throughout his life. Not beginning a relationship with Harry, certainly, but becoming his friend. Finding someone who matched him that he could love and be loved in return by. Fixing his relationships with his parents and never, ever agreeing to Astoria fucking Greengrass.

Scorpius was in them too, he was a part of this perfect life that Draco constantly imagined for himself. He played with Harry's kids, even Weasley's and they got along better than their parents ever had. He didn't have to hold back around his grandparents. He didn't have to pretend around his mother. She wasn't there, and in this fantasy Lucius and Narcissa were happy to love him without demanding anything from him. Him _or_ Draco.

He stared into the fire until he didn't even realise he was doing it. He was too caught up in thinking, fantasizing, regretting, that he didn't see how much more the light had burned into his vision than it had ever done before, until it was too late.

White light so bright that it burned and replaced everything; the flames and the fireplace, the table off to one side, the wall, Draco's own body... He closed his eyes. Or he thought he did, he couldn't be sure since all he could see was the light and nothing else. He opened them again and nothing changed. He couldn't make it go away.

Draco began to physically and mentally struggle against it. The light continued to grow, brighter and brighter until it hurt so much he couldn't feel it anymore. He couldn't see it, but he felt it begin to consume all of him, blazing into his mind and taking everything. He heard himself whimper, and he became overcome with fear, before the light took that too...


	2. Surprisingly, Not Dead

"Are you okay, Draco?"

He could feel someone poking him as his vision slowly returned.

"I don't think he's okay..." someone else muttered. "Maybe we should get a teacher-"

"Are you kidding! There's no way we're letting a teacher come in here when all of..._this _is just lying around!"

"Then we'll ask Snape to come and look at him, gods Pansy." Another voice, deeper and slightly annoyed. Draco was beginning to register them. "You're hurting my ears."

"Brilliant idea, Blaise. Now can you actually carry it out rather than whining?" A girl. Condescending.

"Surely you're better sending Vince or someone. I'd rather stick around and see his face when he wakes up. It's a spell gone wrong, I bet. Maybe he did something completely stupid like let Greg try and enchant away a pimple."

"You know, I don't actually think he has any..." Thoughtful. Stupid-sounding.

"Oh Merlin, now the first-years are getting involved." Someone kicked him and Draco felt himself frown. "Are you happy now, you git? You pass out like this and the first years get all curious. You can never shut them up."

"Back off, Bulstrode. Did you see that?"

"What."

"He just frowned at you. Pathetically, granted, but he might be coming to."

"Oh gods, please. If Draco has to be carted off to the infirmary I'll have to deal with more of...that."

"Hey!"

"Shut up. I don't even know what you're doing here."

"This is the common room! It doesn't belong to you-"

"I don't care if it doesn't. You're annoying. All of you. I hate to think we were anything like that in first year."

"Millicent, as touching as your concern is, you could really be showing it in more efficient ways." The deep voice again...Blaise. That was Blaise.

"Fuck you, Zabini."

"You're lovely but not my type."

"I didn't know you even had one."

Draco now felt as though he could move, although it might be hard at first. He still couldn't open his eyes. He shifted slightly and couldn't help but groan when he did. He felt as though the clothes he was wearing were made of lead.

"Draco?" High-pitched and terrifying.

"Shut up, Pansy," he tried to say, but it came out as strange sounds.

"Oh, thank fuck. Do you still think we should send for Professor Snape?"

"There's not much point if he's just passed out. It'd probably be a good idea to send him to Pomfrey though."

"I wonder what happened..."

"I wonder why you're still here. But if you really want to know just ask him, you idiot."

"Do you think he can hear me?"

"Oh don't start with all of that. If he _can_ hear you, his eyes are closed anyway. He can't bloody well see you, so stop trying to do up your hair. I don't get what the big deal is, anyway. He's not that pretty."

"If he can hear you, you'll be regretting that one, Millicent."

Someone threw themself onto Draco's body, and he winced more in surprise than in pain. Compared to his clothes the person was relatively light. They slapped at the side of his face, and Draco could feel their breath. "If you can hear me Draco, then wake up!"

"I don't think he needs you to dry-hump him. Just give him some time."

"Too right," Draco said and this time he actually did. He put all of his effort into pushing Pansy off, and was satisfied to hear her 'oof' as she rolled away. He decided that if everything else was coming back, opening his eyes might not be so horrible...

Everything was bright, but he could soon make out shapes and colours. The ceiling was high and wooden beams ran across it. The walls were pale and there was an empty fireplace in front of him. How ironic. Green and silver banners were strung up here and there, and looking down at him were several of his friends, who seemed to think that their suddenly being teenagers again was completely normal.

"Holy shit," he said, and closed his eyes again.

"See? You frightened him off!" Millicent said aggressively, and the first year girl made a cry of dismay and ran off.

"It should _not _be that easy to deal with them." Blaise shook his head.

"They're just sad. I don't know how they expect to survive in this house – and they want to replace us in a few years? What bullshit."

"Draco? Are you okay?" Pansy asked tentatively.

"No I'm not okay. What the fuck am I – and all of you – doing here?" Draco opened his eyes and looked at them suspiciously. "Am I dead?"

"You're going to wish you were, for scaring me like that."

"Oh, I'm so happy that you care, Millicent. But if I'm dead I don't have to fucking worry, do I?" he let his head fall back again. "Shit! What's Scorpius going to do without me?"

"The constellation?" Blaise sounded bewildered for once.

"Trelawney must have got to him," Pansy said knowingly, and the others made sounds of agreement.

"No, you fucking-" Draco shouted, and then broke off and rested a hand over his face. "My son. Scorpius is my son."

"I would very much like to know how you managed that."

Draco shifted so he was partially raised and leaning on his elbows. "Funny that, Blaise. I got married and then we did the nasty a few times, and bang. There he was."

"I think he's delusional," Millicent said.

"I'm going to go get Professor Snape." Pansy got to her feet and nodded at Millicent before leaving the room.

"How did you get married, then?"

"My father picked the loveliest bitch that he could find, and then stood me in front of a priest with her. Fuck off, Blaise."

Blaise studied him for a moment and then crossed his arms, asking very seriously: "How old's this son of yours?"

Draco's face softened. "Eleven. I just saw him off for Hogwarts, actually."

"I don't think he's kidding, Millicent," Blaise said quietly to the other Slytherin.

"What, so you think he's actually..."

"I don't know. I don't know if it's true or just a very elaborate dream that he had, but I don't think he's making this up." Blaise came to crouch in front of Draco. "Do you love your son?"

Draco gave up. If this wasn't real then it didn't matter if he was honest. "If it hadn't been for him I would have killed myself a long time ago," he admitted. "And now I'm dead anyway. How sad is that!"

"Who won the war?" Blaise asked.

"Who do you think?" Draco spat at him. "Harry Potter."

Millicent started at that, but didn't say anything. Blaise just kept asking questions. "What year is it?"

"2017. What does it matter."

"Shit..." Millicent said under her breath.

"Did anyone go to Azkaban?"

"A few. My parents were safe. None of us Slytherins did, just some family."

Blaise looked curious. "Then why did you want to kill yourself?"

"Because..." Draco choked on his words. This seemed to be some kind of test, maybe to see where he should go now that he'd died. It actually felt real, his old friends asking him these questions. They were working out his motives and judging him, he thought. It was all that he could do to answer properly. "I brought them here. I brought the Death Eaters to Hogwarts. People died, Blaise. People got injured, both in body and in soul.

"Everyone...everyone blamed me. But more than that I blamed myself. I should have been stronger. I should have resisted my father and all the shit that he taught me. After the war...I became a different person. But it took a long time. By the time that I'd changed it was too late for me to have the life I realised I wanted. And then Scorpius was growing up, and I had to stick around for him. He's a good kid. You should meet him, Blaise," Draco smiled at the thought.

"Are we friends where you came from?" Strangely Blaise seemed almost afraid of the answer.

"You took a job at the Ministry, working with Muggles. You had to deny any relationship with me to get it. And Millicent...she tried. I pushed her away. I'm so sorry," he looked at her, almost in tears. "Astoria keeps trying to get in contact with you. I think you're smart for ignoring her."

"Draco, you can't be that bad..." Millicent said.

He laughed. "No, she's just such a bitch. I wish I'd never married her."

"Why did you?" Blaise asked.

"Professor Snape will be getting here soon," Millicent told him and he nodded.

"I didn't care. I was really bad back then. My father thought it was a good time to marry me off, and it didn't matter to me so I didn't do anything about it."

"Didn't you want to get married eventually?"

"I couldn't marry the person I wanted to, so it didn't matter to me."

Blaise leaned in slightly. "Who did you want to marry?"

No one had ever asked him that question. Narcissa hadn't had to, but no one else had even thought of just asking Draco who he wanted. Now that someone had it was harder to answer than he thought. He ran his hands over his face madly. "It doesn't matter. I can't. I couldn't. You know, he ended up marrying that Weasley girl. They had three kids. Three! I only have one and I think that's enough. They named them all the most stupid things – James, and Lily, and Albus. How stupid is that? That child is going to be bullied insanely at school. Named after Dumbledore. And do you know what his middle name is? Severus. After Snape. I feel so sorry for him..."

He knew he was babbling, but it didn't matter, just like nothing else mattered now that he was dead. He could feel hot tears on his cheeks, and his hair must be mussed more than he'd ever let it be at this age, but he didn't plan on fixing it. He needed to cry, dammit. He hadn't while he'd been alive.

"Are you serious?" Blaise whispered, his face pale like Draco had never seen it.

"I wish I wasn't. I wish for so many things, Blaise..." Draco couldn't help it, he was actually crying now. "At least now that I'm dead I don't have to think about them anymore."

Millicent stooped down beside them both and took Draco's hand. She rubbed it in a way that was surprisingly calming. He sat up a bit more and leaned on her shoulder.

"Did anyone die?" Blaise asked, ignoring Millicent's sound of protest.

"A lot of people," Draco said, calming down so that he didn't sob although tears still ran down his face.

"Who?" Blaise persisted.

"Snape. Dumbledore. Vince. The Minister. A few students, like that annoying one who kept taking photos all the time – Creevey. Fred Weasley. Lupin, he was a professor here for a bit. I heard his wife died as well, they left behind a boy... Aunt Bella. So many Death Eaters, and if they didn't die they went to Azkaban. Your mother was safe, Blaise, she was always too smart to get caught up in this stuff. Millicent fought against Voldemort and that kept her parents out."

"Vince...died?" Millicent said, almost uncomprehendingly.

"I told him to stop. He wouldn't listen. It was my fault."

"Idiot," Blaise muttered, and Draco didn't get to ask who he was talking about when the door swung open and Snape came marching in. He spoke quickly and quietly to Draco, as if he didn't want Snape to hear. "When did all this happen?"

"Seventh year."

"How did you get here?"

"A white light-" Draco broke off when Millicent gripped his hand tightly.

"He hardly seems deserving of your hysterics, Miss Parkinson," Snape said drily, looking Draco over. "Some tissues likely wouldn't go amiss, but I'm afraid potions won't be able to help you there."

"Just a moment ago, Professor, he was-"

"It's true, Professor Snape. He just passed out suddenly. He's regained consciousness now, and we're going to take him to the infirmary," Millicent interrupted. She could manage to sound perfectly innocent when she wanted to and had stopped cussing all over the place. Draco had always liked her.

Snape studied her for a moment and then Draco again. "That sounds acceptable. I'll be returning to my class, now. And would you all please have the foresight not to leave maps of the school lying about the common room? It looks very suspicious." He swept around and went back the way he'd just came, not seeming to notice the hardness of Draco's stare.

"I still don't like him," he said quietly.

Millicent looked at him in surprise. "I thought he was close to your family?"

"There are more important things than family," Draco said, then laughed at his own hypocrisy. He couldn't really believe that, or he'd have left Scorpius behind long ago. "No. No, there aren't. At least for some people. I just don't like him, that's all."

"I'm so glad you're better, Draco! I was really worried, you know," Pansy cried and tried to throw herself on him again. He pushed her off forcefully and sat up, brushing away his tears and preparing to stand up.

"Why didn't you marry Pansy?" Blaise asked, watching them.

Draco laughed at that. "She liked the look of a seventh year when we were in sixth."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Really. We're going to take Draco up to the infirmary now, so can you deal with all of this?" Millicent said, gesturing at the maps scattered around them before leaning down to help Draco carefully up. Draco found himself being supported by both Blaise and Millicent before Pansy could protest. If she insisted on going with them it would take a bit of work to switch them around, and it might be too much for Draco. She didn't have a choice.

"Fine," she said sullenly.

Draco didn't need to lean on his friends as much as they were asking him to, but it made the walk over to the door a lot easier on him. They went slowly and carefully, until they worked out a rhythm and started at a more regular pace.

The dungeons were as dark and gloomy as he remembered, but as they stepped out into the halls Draco saw again how Hogwarts had looked and felt before the battle that took place there. The halls were wide and unnecessarily tall, with portraits everywhere of people doing all sorts of things. More than one was asleep, able to ignore the students that were walking below. It was bright and comfortable, and as Draco looked around he hoped that it had been returned to its former glory so that Scorpius could enjoy this place as much as he once had.

Blaise noticed him glancing around. "What are you thinking about?" he asked softly.

"My son. I hope he does well here," Draco told him. "I taught him as best I could, so that he could overcome the Malfoy reputation. But I don't expect people to make it easy on him."

"You said he was eleven..." Blaise said thoughtfully. "Do you know anybody else's kids that'll be in his year?"

"A few. Albus Potter for one, I'm looking forward to seeing how that goes. Or," he faltered. "I guess I won't get to, now. Rose Weasley as well – she's Granger and Weasley's oldest. I didn't expect them to get along, really. Her father's set against me and seems to think Scorpius is just the same as I was. But it doesn't matter anyway. None of them have good feeling for any of the Malfoys. I just wish they didn't have to catch Scorpius up in all of that."

"No parent would," Blaise murmured. "Out of curiosity, did I ever get married?"

Draco grinned at him. "You were a womaniser for years until a Ravenclaw finally got you."

"What about me?" Millicent asked, her hopefulness written all over her face. She'd always been far too aware of her looks when she wasn't so bad-looking. When she'd gotten older and more comfortable with herself, she'd become quite striking. Draco knew that Millicent at this age had secretly worried she'd never find someone.

"I think you'd rather be surprised, Millie," Draco said with a gentle smile. "You had a wonderful romance, and I don't want to ruin it for you. But you're happy. I know that very well."

She blushed slightly and tried to look unaffected. Draco couldn't help but grin. He'd missed them both, and talking to them like this about their lives was something he'd always wanted to do.

"So what's Scorpius like?" Blaise stepped forward so that he could turn and help him up onto a moving staircase.

"He's more than I could have asked for." Draco took his arm and pulled himself up carefully, with Millicent supporting his other side. He didn't hurt, but he'd be happy when control of his body returned completely. "He's more intelligent than I daresay even Mother is, but friendly and considerate. He can hide his emotions if he has to – I don't know if you can avoid that if you're a Malfoy – but he's most charming when he doesn't bother."

Draco paused to catch his breath, and then nodded for them to keep going. "He's not at all shy, and asks more questions than I can even remember having. He's constantly outwitting me and I never thought that would be so much _fun_." He smiled to himself. "I think he might be a Gryffindor."

Blaise almost tripped and then swore under his breath. "Well, if there was ever any doubt that you're not the Draco Malfoy that we know, that sorted it. You'd be proud of your son going into Gryffindor. Now I've heard everything."

"Well, it's like...Scorpius always gets whatever he decides he wants. But he does that so rarely that it's not an issue. And it's never anything frivolous, like a pet or a new set of robes. He told me when he got his letter that he liked the sound of Gryffindor. He'd decided that was what he wanted, and that was what he was going to get," Draco tried to explain.

"You can't just choose your house, Draco."

"I certainly did," Draco replied. "And believe me when I say that my son will find a way."

"He sounds like he'll be fine, then," Millicent said. He'd very nearly forgotten she was there. "You don't have to worry about him. He'll take care of himself."

Draco thought about that for a moment, ignoring the looks that Blaise and Millicent were giving each other. He didn't need to know what was going on with them. They were just figments of his imagination, made real somehow to make dying easier. "You're right," he said finally. "I should have realised that."

They walked for a few more minutes, occasionally stopping so that Draco could catch his breath or check to see how much of his control had come back. It was incredibly slow. He supposed it took Pansy sprawled on top of him to shock his body into working.

He was concentrating on his feet when they turned a corner and Blaise swore. He was doing that a lot more than Draco remembered. When he gripped Draco's arm more tightly he looked up to see what he'd missed.

Of all the people to run into, there were Harry and Weasley and Granger, just standing there looking at him with the same suspicion they'd always shown him. As if it were some kind of _plot_ that he was being nearly carried by two of his friends up to the infirmary. Draco could see how they would have jumped to that conclusion.

"Shit," he said and pulled away from Blaise. "Let go of me!" He stepped forward as naturally as he could manage, straightening up his robes and scowling at the Gryffindors.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Weasley asked him rudely.

Harry actually looked concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm_ fine_, Potter," he spat. "At least I _was_ until I ran into you lot."

"Hey, you ran into us!" Harry bristled. That was better. Draco knew how to deal with that.

"Oh, how mature, Potter. That's the best come-back I've heard all year. I'd clap for you, but I'm afraid I can only do that so many times, and I already wasted them on Longbottom's performances in Potions," Draco said spitefully.

"Are you hurt? You look like you've been-"

"That's none of your concern, Granger. Now would you kindly collect the gaping idiots you like to call 'friends' and take them somewhere else? Perhaps Snape would like them. He could hold potions in their mouths."

"That's uncalled for-" Weasley began.

"Get the fuck out of my way, Weasley." Draco gave them his hardest, most vehement glare. The red-haired boy visibly flinched, then looked as if he didn't know what to do with himself. Granger looked calculating but that didn't often come to anything. Harry...

"Fine. Come on, guys. We'll leave him alone," Harry said exasperatedly. He stared into Draco's face as if he expected to find something there, then turned and walked away with his friends.

Draco practically fell on Millicent when they turned the corner and were out of sight. That had worn him out more than he'd expected. "That felt good," he said. "I haven't been able to do that for a long time."

Blaise took his other arm again and shook his head. "You have a fine way of showing you care about someone."

"If I recall, when it came to the real thing you didn't do much better," Draco replied.

"Really?"

"Yeah. You wore sarcasm like a cloak. Kept saying all these lovely things to her, but they all came out as insults. You're lucky she liked you so much or she wouldn't have bothered to look past it."

Blaise seemed to like this topic. "Who was this girl exactly? You said she was a Ravenclaw..."

"Don't think I'm telling you. It'll ruin it if you see it coming."

"The future sounds so interesting..."

"Interesting? Sure," Draco shrugged. "But not good for all of us."

They all fell silent at that, and the rest of walk up to the infirmary was shadowed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It started to occur to Draco that perhaps he wasn't actually dead about half an hour into the 'quiet time' that Pomfrey had prescribed for him. She'd told him he was staying the night in the infirmary, even though the tests she'd run hadn't come up with anything.

Apparently the white light he'd described was what a person experienced when too much magic was channelled through their body. It had unpredictable side effects; one person had woken up with an extra eye, another had regrown a lost leg, someone else had developed telepathy. Draco hadn't paid much attention to her explanation at the time, because he'd been waiting for a demon to come along and condemn him to Hell or wherever else he was supposed to go now.

Blaise and Millicent had been allowed to stay to monitor him, and they'd spent the half-hour talking quietly, presumably so that Draco could sleep. He hadn't needed to. He wasn't tired. This all just seemed like a waste of his time. Shouldn't he be getting judged already?

_Unless, _the thought finally occurred to him, _you're not actually dead._

Which could mean all manner of things. He was having a particularly vivid dream. Astoria had finally snapped and cursed him. He'd somehow fallen into a Pensieve – okay, well that was a bit less likely. He'd gone insane, or maybe he already had been.

Draco stared at his friends sitting at the end of his bed, until Blaise finally looked at him. "That's really disturbing, Draco. You're not developing telepathy, are you?"

"I don't see how that could happen," Millicent scoffed. "He's clearly already-"

Blaise covered her mouth with both of his hands and gave Draco a cheerful smile.

Draco's eyes narrowed.

There was no way this was a dream. It had gone on much longer than it should have by now, and Draco had never been able to control his actions in his dreams. He'd heard of people who could but he'd never personally experienced it. And if Astoria had cursed him, she would have done something far worse than send him to the time in his life when he was happiest. Besides, Lucius would have tried to undo it by now. So that wasn't very likely either.

He didn't keep Pensieves anywhere near the room he last remembered being in as an adult. Even if he had wound up inside of one, he should be observing what was happening and not participating in it. So that hadn't happened. Going insane was far more likely, but Draco's sanity had been fragile for a long time and had only been getting stronger as the years went on, even considering his fire-staring habit. And he'd never heard of this, having a completely coherent view of the world but it simply being the wrong one.

So what happened to him, if he wasn't dead? Now that Draco thought about it, he was too healthy to have died just like that anyway. He hadn't had any known medical conditions, and had certainly been tested enough for them. The Malfoys had to preserve their line.

"Clearly already _what_?" he asked.

"...darned attractive?" Blaise tried with a hopeful smile.

Millicent grabbed his hands and pushed them away. She made a sound as if she were about to spit, then realised where she was and obviously thought better than to do it. "Don't do that to me again. It makes it worse when I have some idea of where those hands have been, Blaise."

"Clearly already _what?_" Draco said again, harder.

"I think maybe this is something you need to work out for yourself," Blaise said, his hands stretched out, palms up.

_Wow, thanks Blaise. Because I haven't already been fucking trying. _"Alright. So, I'm not dead..." he thought aloud, waiting for them to say anything that might help him reach the hypothesis they already had.

They just nodded at him. "Go on," Blaise coaxed.

"And you two're...what, fourth-years?"

"Fifth-years." Blaise sounded vaguely insulted.

"Sorry. You've got to understand that at my age they don't seem that different. So fifth-years, which means you're about fifteen." They just nodded at him again. He was getting bloody tired of that. "Is it 1995?"

"1996, actually. So not fifteen for much longer. Your birthday's in about a month, you've been going on and on about the party..." Blaise rolled his eyes. Draco looked momentarily at Millicent, wondering if Blaise's hands had been so toxic she'd lost the ability to speak.

"So it's 1996," Draco said, to clarify.

"Yes."

"Has my father been arrested yet?"

"What? No!" That seemed to shock Blaise, which was becoming far too easy for Draco to take any joy in. "He gets arrested?"

"And sent to Azkaban. And then he breaks out again." Draco shrugged. This really felt too old to affect him any longer, although at the time it had been devastating.

"I never know if I respect him or not," Blaise admitted.

"None of us do. So what month is it, then?"

"It's late April. The Weasley twins just did their big send-off," Blaise looked thoughtful. "Didn't you say that one of them dies?"

Draco gave him a tired look. "Yes, but don't bother yourself over it. There're a few years yet."

Nothing that happened in this world seemed to have the same degree of gravity it did in his own. He could talk like this, about people dying and 'the future' and yell at Harry and still feel quite good about things. It was nice knowing that he'd been through everything before, so nothing could surprise him now that he-

Draco froze, his eyes widening.

_Now that he was back in the past._

For a few moments he couldn't do anything. He just stared a hole into one of the walls as his brain tried frantically to piece everything together. In the past he'd fainted and been replaced by a Draco from the future...

That didn't make sense. But none of this did. Why was he here? How did he get here? That stuff Pomfrey had told him earlier about the effects of too much magic...that must have actually happened. But instead of growing an extra arm, he'd gone back in time.

How had he even been exposed to that much magic? Merlin knew he wasn't capable of it. Maybe Astoria hadn't gone, but Draco couldn't see why she'd bother throwing all her magic at him when it could do something as pointless as give him another eye. If the side-effects were often unexpected, there wasn't any point trying to deliberately do this. It could just as easily have made him a Veela as made him desperately unattractive.

It was a stupid plan for revenge, and as much as he disliked her Draco didn't think Astoria was that stupid. But that meant he had no clue how he had ended up here, in his own fifteen-year-old body.

"I think he's getting it," Blaise whispered just a little too loudly to Millicent.

"Of course I'm fucking getting it!" Draco shouted at him. It didn't matter if Pomfrey came in in a second and ordered them away, right now he was confused and angry. "How do you not get this! It's so ridiculously impossible, _that of course it's what happened to me!_"

Millicent moved to stand beside him and rub small circles on his back. A couple of months ago she'd announced that she and her husband were expecting their first child. Draco thought about that, and realised how great a mother she would end up being.

But it wasn't enough to distract him. "I'm thirty-seven years old. I shouldn't have to deal with this shit!" he said angrily.

"You should probably know better than to swear all the time, as well," Blaise noted.

"I can swear if I want to, Blaise. That's part of being an adult." Draco glared at him. "And I'm already such a fucked-up person, a bit of fucked-up language isn't going to change much."

"Fine. But don't you see what's going on here? That life you have in the future that you say is so awful – not that I'm doubting that it is – doesn't exist anymore. At least, not right now. You can do it all again, live it all again. You can choose, Draco. You can choose not to cock it up if that's what you want to do."

Draco was silent for a minute, considering that. It was true. If he was in the past he could act to change his future. He could have that life that he'd fantasized about. He could make friends with Harry, and hold onto Blaise and Millicent and everyone else that he used to be close to. He could try to talk with his father, and not join Voldemort, and not be responsible for the Battle of Hogwarts.

Everything would be different. He could be happy.

_But Scorpius would never exist._

Despair sank into Draco as he considered that. If he chose to change things too significantly – if he opted to find someone he could love, rather than marrying Astoria for example – his son would never be born. They'd never have those long talks about the merits of Dark and Light spells. They'd never go out for a walk and get their robes torn up and dirty. They'd never say goodbye to each other on Platform 9 ¾. He wouldn't worry himself sick about whether his son was doing okay at Hogwarts or not.

He didn't have to worry about conceiving Scorpius again, because Astoria had fallen pregnant in the typical pureblood way, which involved a number of rites and a significant amount of magic. If he married her again they would have Scorpius. But if he did he would be obligated to stay with her for the rest of the child's life. And that would mean giving up his own chance for love again, and living the way he had before.

"This is such bullshit," Draco said, his voice hoarse from emotion.

Millicent chuckled, continuing to rub his back comfortingly. "I hear you."

"It is pretty warped. I certainly didn't think we'd end up in this situation when you just passed out like that," Blaise said, leaning his crossed arms on Draco's bed. "It was really disturbing to watch, actually. Your eyes just rolled back into your head and your head went back and then your knees bent and you just went _down_. I thought when people fainted they were meant to fall backwards or something."

Draco laughed, though he didn't know why. He was beginning to cry again, and he brushed a few tears away. "How would I know? I've never seen anyone faint either."

"Really?" Millicent said. "Girls do it all the time. I unwrapped a Chocolate Frog and put it in someone's bed last week and she got in and jumped straight out again, screaming like a loon. Then she just dropped. So we threw a blanket over her and went to sleep."

Blaise and Draco stared at her. "You are going to make a _fantastic _mother," Draco said, somewhat in awe.

"Oh?" Millicent looked pleased. "Thank you."

"Do I have kids in the future?" Blaise asked suddenly.

"Oh no. You are not starting this again." Draco shook his head. "I told you all that because I thought this wasn't real. I'm not telling you anything else."

He looked disappointed, but let it go. "You'd tell us if it was something we needed to know, though. Right?"

"Of course," Draco said. He didn't know exactly when a situation like that would come up, but while he wasn't going to spoil his friends' futures for them, he was prepared to help.

"I don't think I really want children anyway," Blaise said and moved again, so that his feet were resting on Millicent's abandoned chair. "They seem like a lot of work. Still, if my partner wanted some I wouldn't be too bothered."

"I did," Draco smiled a little sadly. "I wanted several. Astoria wouldn't put up with me for long, though. She hates me more than I hate her. And she never wanted Scorpius."

Blaise didn't seem to know what to say to that, but Millicent spoke instead. "Why not?"

She asked the question gently, and it was clear that she actually wanted to know. It was impossible for Draco to get angry or upset about it. "Astoria married me for my name," he explained. "She made her own choice. She had a lover that she seemed to genuinely care about, but he was a Muggle-born. So she cut off her ties with him and married into the Malfoy family. The name was tainted by then, and Father was just thrilled that someone wanted to take it.

"Astoria viewed it as a problem she could fix. She kept running around throwing parties and donating to charities and trying to present us kindly to the public. It worked, but not well enough to be worthwhile. But by then she was in too far to get out again. So she tried harder than ever to justify her decision and become the perfect Malfoy wife.

"Eventually that meant having a child. We did every ritual we could think of and then a few more, just so we wouldn't have to sleep together more than a few times. She was careful while she was pregnant. But she never formed that bond with Scorpius that I thought all mothers did with their children. She had to put herself aside for nine months, and once she had that was her duty done in Astoria's opinion.

"She never wanted Scorpius, and I don't know if she could have loved him when all he meant to her was sacrifice," Draco finished. He rarely thought about his wife this way. Once, they had at least understood each other.

They were quiet again. "I understand, but I still don't like her," Millicent said slowly.

"That's pretty much how I feel." Draco smiled at her. "But that's... the future, now. Like Blaise said, it's gone. I don't have to marry her if I really don't want to. It'd probably be better for both of us."

"Are you going to chase after Potter?" Blaise asked.

Draco closed his eyes. To have so many choices again was bewildering. If he wanted to pursue Harry, then yes, he could try. It most certainly wouldn't work but he could try. "No," he said. "At least, not romantically. He has his own family, his own life. It's not my place to deprive him of his own children, if I choose to give up mine. But I think," he opened his eyes again. "I think I would like to be friends with him. That might be enough." _It will have to be._

"Alright," Blaise said, and that was that. He would help him now. In Slytherin acknowledgement was an offer of support, just as an outright offer of support was an announcement of dislike. It was odd, but it made sense. Draco remembered it, and he smiled at him.

"Gods, thirty-seven. You're so old!" Blaise stretched, pulling his arms out in front of him. "I think my mother might be younger than you."

"That doesn't mean much. Your mother happens to be very efficient," Draco said. The other boy thought over the words, likely trying to decide if he should be defensive or not. In the end he just nodded. It was true, after all. Ms. Zabini had been married seven times by the time Blaise had entered fifth-year. Draco wasn't going to tell him how many more husbands she'd had after that.

"Can I partner with you in Potions?" Millicent asked.

"Why would you want to do that?" Blaise looked suspicious for a moment before the answer struck him. "Oh, you wouldn't! That can't be fair, it has to be cheating!"

"I'd love to, Millicent," Draco said to her. "Blaise, she deserves it for thinking more quickly than you. And cheating is something Slytherins _never _do, isn't that right Millie?"

"Of course. It goes without saying," she agreed stoically.

For a full hour Blaise didn't stop glaring at him, but as Draco talked and laughed with his friends, he rather thought that the first choice he'd consciously made had been a good one.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **Lots of fun dialogue in this chapter. I quite like writing Slytherins talking to each other, and I've always had a soft spot for Millicent Bulstrode in fanfictions. On the other hand, I find myself really hating Astoria, even though she hasn't really appeared yet. What do you guys think? Leave a review and tell me. :)


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